


Strain

by golden_orange



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humour, Sex Pollen, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-27
Updated: 2010-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-10 07:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_orange/pseuds/golden_orange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peri is infected with the dreaded alien sex pollen. This makes things between her and the Doctor uncomfortable. Alright, MORE uncomfortable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strain

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a departure for me, something a bit more 'adult' than I usually write; it occurred that whilst the old 'alien sex pollen makes the characters want teh sex' cliche is prevalent in New Series fanfiction, it seems quite thin on the ground in the Classic Series... and that it might be interesting to see how a more fractious pairing than the usual shipping sets might react to it. And there's few more fractious than Six / Peri... Nothing very explicit (and certainly nothing graphic) but, well, it's about alien sex pollen. Gets a little bit frank towards the end. Hope it works!

“This is all your fault,” Peri Brown snapped waspishly. A close observer would note that she appeared remarkably fidgety, and appeared to be crossing and uncrossing her legs with remarkable frequency. She seemed to have some difficulty in remaining settled in her seat. She was brushing at the skin of her arm, as if she had an itch, but the same close observer would see that her hand appeared to be stroking her skin rather than scratching it.

The Doctor spun around from the TARDIS console in a flurry of brightly coloured coat tails and moral outrage. “_My_ fault?!” he repeated incredulously. “And who was it, I wonder, who warned you to stay away from those flower beds in the first place? It’s not my fault that you allowed your otherwise laudable botanical curiosity to overrule your good senses and reject my as-it-turns-out remarkably sound advice!”

“Yeah, you warned me -- right before you pushed me into them!” 

“I did no such thing!” Which wasn’t _entirely_ true -- although it was fair to say that it wasn’t entirely the Doctor’s fault either; he’d been wrestling with a Vorxian assassin trying to kill him at the time, and Peri had had the misfortune to be standing between him and the flowerbeds in question when the assassin had given him a particularly powerful shove. Of course, neither was exactly in the mood to see the other’s point of view at that particular point; not they often were at any other time, really.

“In any case,” the Doctor continued querulously, determined to see his campaign to secure the moral high ground out to the bitter end, “it certainly isn’t my fault that your species is practically hardwired to respond to almost any kind of stimulus with sexual arousal. Honestly, I can hardly take you lot_anywhere_; the amount of botanical gardens I’ve been kicked out of because of some human allergic reaction to pollen which requires my companion or companions to rapidly fulfill your species' basic biological urges is nothing short of embarrassing. As if your species didn’t have the breeding capacity of rabbits to begin with! Although credit where it’s due, Peri, you’re doing a remarkable job of controlling yourself so far; I've seen humans in a position to succumb to their urges with much less...” he tried to find a word which wouldn't seem like a horrible joke designed make the situation worse, and failed miserably: "stimulation," he ended lamely.

Peri, not surprisingly, wasn’t in the mood to debate with him the efficiency or otherwise of the biological imperatives of the human reproductive system. She was, however, in the mood to violently rip all the Doctor’s clothes off and do unspeakable things to him against the console, an urge that she attributed completely and entirely to the alien pollen she’d been liberally dusted with _and absolutely nothing else_. Certainly not those deep-seated thoughts she _had never_ had about the Doctor that she _in no way_ sublimated by having loud shouting matches with him at any opportunity. Denial was a beautiful thing, especially in Peri’s current state; at the moment, it was all that was keeping her from doing something that would no doubt make the TARDIS even _more_ uncomfortable to be around in for the two of them.

Especially her.

Whilst trying to take her mind of the intensely powerful hormones that were charging through her entire biological make-up. Peri mused that the Doctor ought to be grateful, actually; she’d have probably already launched herself at him if he’d still been in the body she first met him in. Hell, she might not have even waited until the Doctor had managed to get her back into the TARDIS. 

Peri's skin suddenly felt strangely tingly again; she rubbed at it, realising just too late that she was doing so in a way that couldn't be interpreted any other way as being intensely suggestive and erotic. She realised that the Doctor had noticed this gesture, and was making an obvious effort to look elsewhere; anywhere else. The atmosphere in the TARDIS suddenly became tense and uncomfortable.

Alright, _more_ tense and uncomfortable.

“So where are we going now, then?” Peri asked as the Doctor turned back to the console and punched in coordinates with just a bit more force than was necessary, keen to distract herself from the thoughts setting up home in her mind of the Doctor shirtless and, for some reason, with a 1970s porn star moustache. 

“Well, I’m setting the TARDIS to roam the vortex for a two-week quarantine period to ensure that the spores -- and by extension you -- can’t spread.”

Peri mentally battled between her urge to yell at the Doctor about being trapped in the TARDIS for two weeks, her urge to yell at the Doctor for implying that she was some kind of contagious virus, and her urge to yell “Fuck me, bad boy!” at the Doctor, rip _her_ clothes off and jump him. The first urge won. Just. “_Two weeks_?!”

“I can’t risk landing the TARDIS anywhere that pollen could spread; especially not if there’s humans anywhere nearby. Imagine it mixing with the flowers on Earth, spreading on bees and in the air; it could mean the end of human civilization within days! And you, my dear, are covered in the stuff; it’s going to take some time both for the remaining spores around you to dissipate and for you to get over the worst of the effects.”

“But… what am I gonna do for two weeks in this condition?!”

“Well, first I suggest you take a very long cold shower.” 

The glare Peri shot him at this flippantly delivered comment was almost capable of melting lead; even the Doctor flinched back. “To get rid of the remaining spores!” He insisted. “Hot water and soap will just make it worse, believe me; I have some little experience in these matters…” he shuddered momentarily at a long and happily forgotten memory involving Nyssa, Tegan _and_ Adric, then snapped back to the present. “Anyway, once you’re done leave your clothes outside your bedroom door; I will dispose of them suitably. Any remaining spores won't affect me. After that, I suggest you remain in your bedroom, lock the door, and, well…”

“‘Well’ what?” Peri asked, her voice very very dangerously low.

The Doctor at least had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Do what comes naturally,” he ended feebly, scratching behind his ear. He smiled, weakly.

Peri’s eyes widened in horror. With that one comment, and the implication behind it, all those things about the Doctor she’d spent a good deal of time and psychological effort walling up in a secret place within her psyche flooded into her brain. Absolutely all of them. And despite everything, there were quite a lot of them. Peri Brown was nothing if not imaginative. 

“Do what comes naturally,” Peri echoed bitterly. “That's your brilliant plan. Well, thank you, Doctor. Thank you for putting your genius to the test and doing the impossible and _making this situation even more GODDAMN UNCOMFORTABLE_!”

After screaming that at the top of her lungs, Peri stormed out of the console room, although the aforementioned close observer from before would note that she was moving incredibly swiftly, and seemed to make an effort to follow a route that would put as much distance between her and the Doctor as possible. 

The Doctor blinked. “Just trying to help,” he added to the empty room sulkily.

Peri and the Doctor never spoke of this incident again, and if at any point in the next two weeks the Doctor might have heard Peri shouting his name in what sounded like orgasmic bliss, he took care not to mention it.

***


End file.
